


The Fright of Your Love Life

by chucks_prophet



Series: Countdown to Halloween [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: But Mostly Humor, Crushes, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dean is Bad at Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Love Confessions, M/M, Police Officer Dean, Prankster Sam, Professor Castiel, Sam Ships It, Some angst, They're in their Thirties But Act Like They're Teenagers Around Each Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, halloween party, mention of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 13:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean’s heart picks up and a smile manages to find his own face. “Really?”Cas nods. “Really. I’m just surprised you—” Before he can finish his comment and Dean can rejoice, there’s a loud rustle from the bushes. Loud. Like there’s-a-body-moving-around-in-there loud.“Uh… should I call the cops?”“Dean, you are the cops.”





	The Fright of Your Love Life

Dean recalls a time when his little brother hated Halloween.

After all, Dean's the one who introduced a then ten-year-old Sam to the original _Friday the 13th_ one sleepless night.

Needless to say, Sam _remained_ sleepless into the next. He even started asking Dean if people like Jason existed – monsters, ghosts, which spun out into vampires, werewolves, and even Djinns. Their dad was super pissed when he found out. Sam ended up saying he didn't want to go trick-or-treating anymore because he was afraid of being attacked by the supernatural.

But now, nearly twenty years later, Sam's all gung-ho. He's having another one of his Halloween-themed parties. The walkway’s illuminated by handmade lanterns and covered in smoke. There are skeletons in the front yard that look like they're crawling out from under the ground like fucked up gnomes. The porch light flickers paired with the soundtrack to a man's deep evil laugh Sam probably found doing a basic web search. It’s all fitting, but it’s not for Dean.

Dean just goes to support Sam (plus, the puppy dog eyes still have full effect on him as a thirty-something). He wouldn’t have anything against the holiday if the neighborhood kids wouldn’t give him a reason. Halloween is the highest day for petty crimes, like teepee and eggings. Luckily, Garth is covering for the second half of his tonight so he can have a break and Dean can drive straight over without changing this time, seeing his uniform is costume enough.

If only he were brave enough at these things to whip out his handcuffs. You wouldn't guess it by reading his job description, but Dean's not very motivated when it comes to pursuing someone who's not trying to shoot at him.

He doesn't have to sift around too much to find him hovering over the marble island like a black-winged scarecrow guarding its land against famished birds. "Cas."

Cas turns around, quite literally ruffling his feathers against the kitchen island as he does so. He smiles when his blue eyes, like the tie around his neck, catch his. “Hello, Dean.”

“Is it out of the question at this point to ask if you come here often?”

Cas huffs a laugh. “I would say so,” he says, talking over the two giggling girls stumbling in. Dean knows them too well as the Ruby’s, dressed accurately as the witches from _Practical Magic_. They’re invited into the back of Dean’s cop car more than to neighborhood parties. But Sam still has a soft spot for the both of them seeing as he, a _lawyer_ , dated them at different low points in his life. “So, are you really a cop or are you here to entertain us?”

Dean blushes, looking down at his uniform and finding a not-so sexy bloodstain on his sleeve. Or maybe that was the jelly-filled doughnut he had a few hours ago. Yes, the stereotype is true, which makes him in _no way_ sexy. “No, I’m, uh, I’m really a cop,” he confirms.

“Bummer,” Cas says with a sly grin. Before Dean can even think to rejoin, he gestures to the Ruby’s, who are getting a little too handsy with the host in front of his fiancée Jess despite Sam’s attempts at nudging them away. “We could use someone to save Sam.”

“I think I’d only make it worse, to be honest.”

“What?”

“I think I’d—” Dean stops, realizing his proximity to Cas. He’s beating his words _right_ into his ear, half covered by the messy brown tuff of hair on his head. He clears his throat as he steps back a little to rephrase with the little courage he has in his lion heart, “Do you wanna talk outside?”

Cas nods, and then they’re walking towards the screen door—which, even a few feet away, is like trying to avoid ghosts in Pac-Man. Once Dean has a firm grip on the door handle, he pulls and gestures for Cas. Dean slips out after him.

Dean immediately breathes a sigh of relief. Though there’s only the overhead light to illuminate an otherwise dark and large backyard, it’s far quieter aside from the occasional rustling in the bushes and the orchestra of crickets playing their skeletal violins. The fresh air is always nice too. Being in a car for eight to sometimes ten hours a day can really make a guy forget there’s a whole other world outside of the one that smells like Biggerson’s Turducken.

Dean realizes he hasn’t started speaking until Cas says, “So…”

“Right, um…”

Dean pauses, questioning whether or not to start back up again with small talk. He looks at Cas— _really_ looks at him—and it physically pains him. Not because Cas is paining to look at. It’s the opposite; actually, that’s _why_ he’s pained. A few years have gone by and Cas only amounts to a few minutes in each of them.

He could make the excuse that he doesn’t want to drag anyone into his world, because even when Dean is home, where someone would know he’s safe, he’s not safe from the nightmares or the random outbursts. After all, PTSD is a diagnosable condition.

He could also chalk it up to the fact that he’s only been with one guy, and that was for a few months because Aaron never made the transition from bi-curious to bisexual.

But Dean’s an officer of the law: He’s bound by the truth. And the truth is, he’s plagued by his own hesitancy above all else. He’s a lot braver in the streets before he’ll even get to be in the sheets.

So no, this time, he’ll give Cas the time he deserves: “Tell me about yourself.”

Cas tilts his head a little. “What?”

“Tell me about yourself,” Dean repeats in all seriousness. “We’ve been going to these things for three years now. I wanna know you aside from the angel costume—even though, I’ll admit, the wings are pretty rad.”

Cas’s large and slightly chapped lips curve into a gummy smile. “Okay. Alright… um, my name is Cas. But you know that much. Uh, let’s see… I was named after Castiel, the Angel of Thursday, because I was born on Thursday morning. My mom was super religious. And I mean _so_ religious she had an angel name for every possible day of the week that I could’ve been born, so I could’ve been named six other things.

After her death in my early twenties, I rediscovered my faith and changed my major from Veterinary Medicine to Religious Studies—which didn’t go over well with my dad, since he was funding me through school. And even though I’m still paying off vet school, I wouldn’t want to do anything other than teach Philosophy and Religious Studies at KU. It’s really rewarding, giving the gift of knowledge. And frankly, I don’t care how cheesy that sounds.”

“Sam went to KU,” Dean points out.

Cas nods. “He was in my class a few years back. First class I ever taught, in fact. That’s how we’ve kept in touch this whole time.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, he was a great student,” Cas continues, “very hardworking, very kind…”

“You don’t have to lie, he can’t hear you; he’s inside the house.” Cas laughs, then asks Dean the same. “Oh man… where do I begin? Okay, my name’s Dean, not short for anything. Sam’s my pain in the ass little brother who has a hard-on for Halloween. We’re both in the law profession. My dad’s a cop like me, but filled with a lot more alcohol since my mom’s death, too. Um… what else?

Oh, I like pie. And food in general. Don’t tell Sam I like those carrots carved into boney fingers or I’ll never hear the end of it. I’m an Aquarius, I like long walks on the beach, and I’ve been steadfastly avoiding you as much as possible for three years because I think you’re way out of my league.”

Cas’s mouth parts. “I, um… sorry, that’s just weird, because that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.”

Dean’s heart picks up and a smile manages to find his own face. “Really?”

Cas nods. “Really. I’m just surprised you—” Before he can finish his comment and Dean can rejoice, there’s a loud rustle from the bushes. _Loud._ Like there’s-a-body-moving-around-in-there loud.

“Uh… should I call the cops?”

“Dean, you _are_ the cops.”

Dean and Cas both turn to each other slowly, like two rats realizing they’re in a trap, when the rustling stops. They take one step closer and sure enough, they’re swept off their feet and being thrown five feet into the air. When Dean catches the breath that’s stolen from him, he realizes he and Cas, who are packed tighter than two kids in the womb, are ensnared by a net. “What the fuck—?”

Slow clapping comes from the bush where they heard the strange noise as a dark figure approaches them. “Finally. And it didn’t even take me orchestrating all this to get you guys together.”

Dean’s bewilderment quickly morphs into anger when the figure steps under the light. “I repeat _what the fuck?”_

“I knew you two liked each other—we _all_ knew—but I didn’t know you’d actually admit to it.”

“Then why the hell did you go through with your master plan?!”

Sam wags a finger. “Big brother,” he says, walking around the sack containing the two men with those moose legs of his. His devil’s clean white suit is looking more appropriate for him than ever. “There’s a lot you’ve left to learn about Halloween pranks. Rule number one is that you always go through with the trick, even if you’ve already got the treat.”

“You did all of this just to get us together?” Cas scoffs.

Sam shrugs before he pulls up a patio chair and steps on it to cut the rope. “My brother’s emotionally constipated. I figured this would scare the lovey-dovey shit out of him.”

With that, Sam moves the chair and steps back for Dean and Cas to plop onto the ground—feet first, luckily. Dean also has an armful of Cas, and as much as he wants to curse out his brother, he can’t help but focus on Cas breathing hard against his face and his breath that smells like candy corn and he’s bringing his face closer to Dean’s…

The partiers inside rejoice. They both turn their heads, realizing they’re all staring at the two men with big smiles on their faces. Dean scoffs, but smiles as he and Cas turn their heads back to meet for a long overdue (and anticipated, apparently) kiss.

 

 

He could make the excuse that it’s himself, his past, or Sam, but the real reason he’s been cockblocked from Cas is because of these stupid Halloween parties.


End file.
